Secrets and Hobbies
by NoTeaForYou
Summary: It seems that Russia is finally trying to patch things up with America after the Cold War, but the old rivalry is still the same. However, when the two connect over a shared hobby, things become more than intense. Now slightly lost and confused, America has to make a choice; Preserve a diplomatic relationship, or receive the relationship he had always wanted (Mprg some chapter r-M)
1. I Can Prove It!

**Read this first:** First off, thank you for choosing to read this fanfiction! This is clearly a RusAme fic so, with all due respect, if you would not mind leaving if you detest the pairing. It will help both you and the selection of people who do enjoy it. Secondly, this is an Mpreg (male pregnancy) fanfiction, so please take that into consideration and know what to expect. There will be cussing, suggestive themes, explicit (rated M) scenes, mild smoking, and mild drinking. I'm finished, so go on my friends! Hope you enjoy! **Please review if you read!**

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"Please don't let me fall!" Ukraine warned as she climbed little by little up the step ladder to reach the top of the large evergreen tree, a bulky string of crystal lights clutched securely in hand.

America held her confidently at the hips as she stood on her tip toes to drape the string around the peak of the tree, working outward by weaving the crystalline lights over and under each bristly limb. "Why would I let you fall?" He chuckled. "And even if you did, I would catch you for sure."

Ukraine giggled. "That's good to know. If you were my sister," she paused and shuddered at the thought, "If you were my sister I would already have a face full of pine needles!"

America gave a quick nod of grievance before looking away with an anxious gulp. Ukraine's backside was right at eye level as she worked away cheerily, each voluptuous curve emphasized by the poufy skirt of her Christmas dress. America could just barely feel the warmth radiating delicately from her body…and it made him far more than uncomfortable. Ukraine was very striking, he couldn't lie to himself, but he had always been awkward about women.

Ever since he was young had America had a hard time around women. However, he treasured them as friends and colleagues. They gave him precious input over things he couldn't grasp on his own, such as the multifaceted world of sentiment and why certain shirts didn't harmonize well with his dress uniform, but he could never seem to open up to a deeper relationship with any of them. He had tried many ways to get around it, but every time he got intimate with a woman, it made him nervous.

"America?" Ukraine leaned down a bit to examine America's face. He seemed off in his own cosmos, a star struck but equally perplexed appearance flooding consistently over his features as he mumbled a bit to himself.

Ukraine raised an eyebrow in amusement. "America?" She repeated.

America blinked in surprise, snapping rapidly out of the concentrated thought. "Huh?" He asked vacantly, looking up at her with clear sky-blue eyes.

"Are you going to let go of me? I've finished the top of our tree, but I need you to move so I can work on stringing the lights around the bottom."

"Oh! Yeah, sure thing!"

America removed his hands and stepped back to allow her to descend from the ladder. Immediately, Ukraine continued her work, walking in a circle around the fir to evenly distribute the decorations.

"It was nice of my younger brother to invite you for Christmas this year." She spoke up to break the awkward silence that had rapidly formed in the ambiance about the two.

America nodded, taking the end of the string from Ukraine when she had finished, and bending down to plug it into the wall. Instantly, the colossal tree lit up in a marvelously alluring array of vibrant color. The bright hues shone beautifully through the gem-like casings that masked each naked bulb, painting rainbows across the neutral walls of Russia's home.

"After the Cold War he's been kind of touchy, though." America placed his hands on his hips and stood back with a grin to admire Ukraine's job. "I dunno, maybe he's trying to mend some of the things that happened a while back or something."

Ukraine shrugged and smoothed the wrinkles from the front of her dress with her palms. "Or, maybe he's just lonely." She pointed out. "Little brother doesn't see many people anymore."

America hadn't thought of that before. "Really? You and Belarus don't still live here with him in the house?" He inquired.

"No, not anymore." Ukraine explained. "We only come by to visit Russia for the holidays. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, we have been independent, and have our own separate houses."

America shot her a look. "Well duh, everybody knows that you're independent. I just wasn't sure if you still lived here." He gave a passive sigh. "If Russia didn't wanna be lonely every year like you say, then he shouldn't have tried to force Communism on everyone else. If he had just kept to himself like I told him to, then he would have been fine, and I'm pretty sure you could still have lived here."

Ukraine seemed somewhat unnerved at the mention of her brother's former political system. "It's not that simple. We would have left no matter what."

"Why?" America raised an eyebrow and followed his friend to the petite love seat that rested against the wall a few feet from the left of the tree, sitting next to her with a questioning look across his innocent face.

"Well, why did you want to leave England?"

"Um, several reasons; mainly because of his crazy exploitation and taxes. Not to mention the lack of religious freedom, and just freedom in general. He was just being a dick."

"That's why we left Russia."

"Because he's a dick? I can see that."

Ukraine sighed, a bit frustrated. "No. We left for _freedom_. My brother is kind to us, but we still didn't have much of it here."

America leaned back against the cushion of the couch and nodded leisurely. "I guess that makes sense. Communism is great in theory, but it could never work like Russia wants it too. Not everyone can be equal, because someone will always be on the bottom and someone will always be on the top. Anyway, he still didn't seem like he treated all of you too great."

A small smile peaked across Ukraine's supple face, spreading over her rosy, apple-like cheeks. "Oh, he's not all that bad. Russia is very sweet if you get to know him well enough!"

America couldn't help but let out a noisy obnoxious laugh. "Russia? _Sweet_? Ha! I'll believe that when I see it!"

Ukraine opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of footsteps in the other room silenced her. She peered inquisitively around the girth of the tree's lower level to a doorway leading out of the main room of the house and into a long hallway. Belarus trotted lightly towards them, several old cardboard boxes stacked in her slender arms and her glossy black Christmas skirt flaring slightly behind her with each step. Russia followed closely behind her, also toting a number of boxes. When America spotted him, he rolled his eyes in displeasure. The same happy-go-lucky beam was stamped into his tender expression, and the usual lengthy, stained scarf was wrapped several times around his neck, even though the temperature of the house didn't call for it. America allowed his eyes to trail unhurriedly down Russia's body as he walked into the room, setting the boxes carefully on the floor in front of the evergreen. It was odd to see him in casual clothing, simple dark slacks with a light neutral coat over a white long sleeved undershirt. It didn't look bad, but put an extreme emphasis on Russia's height, making America feel inferior to him once again. Russia always found a way, intentional or non, and America loathed it with a passion.

Belarus stacked her boxes on top of Russia's. "Big brother helped me retrieve the Christmas ornaments from the attic." She explained tugging the flaps of the top box open and picking out a few miniature soldier figurines.

Ukraine stood with a smile. "That was nice of you Russia." She complimented as she helped her sister.

Russia beamed at her. Compliments from his sisters always made him feel wonderful inside. "Are the Baltics here yet?" He asked, changing the subject.

"No, not yet. Lithuania called earlier and said that he would be late." Ukraine explained, hanging a few glassy ornaments on the tree. "He mentioned that he was going to bring his friend along."

Russia blinked. "Friend? Good for Lithuania, someone finally likes him!"

"I liked him. Why do you think he chose to live in my house instead of yours for a while?" America spoke up from across the room, diverting his rival's attention.

The corners of Russia's smile twitched down a bit as he struggled to maintain his compassionate mood. "Ah, privet America." He greeted as kindheartedly as his voice allowed.

America smirked at the slight dither to Russia's tone. It was obvious that he wasn't happy with the comment but, hey, that was his fault for inviting him. Still, America was in _his_ home, so he decided to be on his best behavior from that point on to maintain a reasonable diplomatic relationship. The last thing he needed was Russia on his tail again, not that he had ever left. America gave a silent sigh to himself. It was going to be agonizingly difficult to get along with this guy.

"Hey, why don't you come sit with me?" He offered, forcing a smile upon his face and patting the spot next to him on the couch. "I haven't seen you in a while!"

Russia hesitated but finally grinned and plopped down next to America who immediately regretted his decision. Even sitting, Russia was still about a foot taller than him. America cleared his throat and straitened his posture in a desperate attempt to look taller, but to little avail. As Russia watched the completely obvious display he chuckled a bit.

"Problem, America?" He prodded, already knowing the answer.

America looked up at him, startled that he had been caught, then instantaneously averted his gaze. He crossed his arms and scrunched up his face in discontent. Damn he needed to learn to be more discreet.

"No." He mumbled.

Russia placed a hand on his rival's shoulder, bearing down a bit. "It's alright to be a little short. I like you that way." He reassured.

America blinked, surprised at Russia's kindness. "You…like me this way?" He asked gradually. It was strange to receive praise from Russia. It was completely out of character for him to be sympathetic…Disturbing even.

"Da!" Russia nodded cheerfully. "When you are shorter, it makes me feel like I can topple you all the easier!"

America could literally feel his ego deflating like a balloon. Talk about a thorn to the heart! At first, he studied Russia's face, fairly sure that the comment was a joke. After a few seconds of scouring his features, he determined that his opponent was actually serious. Classic Russia. And the self-satisfied smile upon his face only made the sweltering wrath in America's chest boil over all the faster. He gritted his teeth and jumped up, nearly losing his balance by stepping wrong, but quickly recovering.

"Hey!" He growled, thrusting a finger into Russia's face. "Look who kicked your sorry ass all those years ago! Who cares if you're taller than me? I'm stronger!" He puffed out his chest as he boasted. "I could kick your ass a hundred times over!"

Russia raised an eyebrow coolly. "I don't think so." He stated plainly, not put off in the slightest at America's sudden explosion of fury.

"Don't think so, commie!?" America snapped. "I can prove it!"

"Prove it then."

"Fine, I will!"

America spun around to face Russia's sisters, both of which were busying themselves in the adornment of the tree. Ukraine hummed gleefully as she stretched up to hang a glittery snowflake on a bare branch, while Belarus stared blankly into the distance, slowly handing her sister ornaments one by one.

"Hey," America began, "I know he's your brother, but which one of us is stronge-?"

"Big brother." Belarus cut him off and jabbed a finger at her brother, who gave a smug smile.

America spread his arms in frustration. "Of _course_ he is." He had long since gotten tired of Belarus and her crazed addiction for Russia.

Ukraine seemed nervous. "If you want to find out, go outside and solve it while we're still waiting for everyone to get here." She suggested. "Just don't hurt each other…Please? We all have five days to spend with each other, and it would be great if no one killed the other on the first night."

Russia stood and nodded. "I'll get my coat." He replied enthusiastically.

America glared at Russia, but only received a tiny teasing nod in return. He blinked and frowned when the large nation lightly brushed him with his arm as he passed, sauntering into the hallway and disappearing into one of the many rooms on the left of the corridor.

The two sisters remained quiet as America grumbled heatedly to himself, reaching behind the love seat and retrieving his poufy red coat before pulling it hastily over his shoulders.

_Who does Russia think he is?_ America thought to himself. _Everyone knows I'm way stronger than he is!_

When Russia re-appeared he seemed more natural than he had in casual clothing. He had adorned his military coat, as it was probably the warmest, and was looking like his usual self again.

"Ready, Russia?" America asked, surprisingly eager as he headed for the front door.

"Wait," Russia stopped him, "Are you going outside like that?"

"Like what?"

"The zipper on your coat isn't zipped. You'll freeze."

America dismissed Russia's warning with a smile and a wave of the hand. "Geez man, I'll be fine! I can withstand anything!"

Russia chuckled and shook his head. "Trust me."

America felt his face flush with discomfort as Russia moved forward, taking the two small metal ends of the zipper and connecting them before slowly bringing the zipper up to America's neck. His breathing was slow and even.

"Just like that." He whispered, not letting go of the zipper, running his gaze leisurely over America's face to examine it with a soft smile and stopping when he locked eyes with him.

America watched him intently from behind his glasses. The violet of Russia's eyes was intense, two soft but powerful orbs burning into his. America held his breath as the long moment drew on, melting into the atmosphere like a tepid, viscous paint of awkward emotion.

"Russia?" America breathed? "Um…" He reached up and moved Russia's hand away from the zipper, stepping back a few feet and hoping that the larger nation wouldn't notice him sweating.

"There! Much better." Russia closed his eyes and patted America on the shoulder, satisfied, before throwing open the door and striding briskly outside into the frigid air of the white Russian countryside.

America raised an eyebrow and followed, confused about what had just happened. The sharp wind mixed with the fat flakes of snow, the two forming a deathly chilly combination, slicing at his cheeks and nose like a razor and causing him to instinctively curl up and shiver. However, he didn't seem to care. What worried him most was the fact that Russia had gotten close enough to where he could feel his warm breath on his face. Dangerously close. Suddenly America felt a knot of fear form deep in his stomach. He reached up and shakily pressed his already numb palm against his chest. Sure enough, his heart was racing. He swallowed and straitened his glasses nervously. Had Russia done something to him? Something he had neglected to notice? He had never been intimidated by the idiotic commie before, so why was he starting now. But still, it was bizarre. He had never felt such an concentrated wave of fear before. It pulsed through his body, chilling his already cold flesh, but causing him to break out in a sweat at the same time. Finally, America was able to peel his eyes away from the ground and peek up. Russia smiled at him from a distance, motioning for him to hurry along.

"Are you coming, America?" He called over the wind.

America took a deep breath, desperate to calm the small shake he felt rack his body. "Yeah!" He called back. "Whatever it is we're doing, bring it on!"

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**Tea:** Yeah, America, that's totally fear you're feeling. Are you sure it's nothing else? Anyway, hope you enjoyed this lo-ng (and boring) first chapter. Sorry, I had to set everything up so that way things will go a bit smoother in the later chapters. Thank you for reading and **please review if you read!** Thanks again!


	2. Irritation on Ice

**Tea:** Wow everyone, talk about motivation to write! The first chapter for this hasn't been out long and I have so many favorites and follows! (Well, a lot for me at least). Not to mention the kind reviews. Thank you for the support, I really appreciate it. I have a few ideas for this chapter, but usually my ideas are warped because the characters usually choose to follow their own path and be unpredictable, so we'll see. I've already re-written this about 6 times now, no joke, because I just didn't like hardly any of it, so sorry it took _forever_. I can't figure out why this chapter was so hard to write. Anyway, this chapter will be _mainly_, not all, from Russia's point of view this time, so hope you enjoy, and **please review if you read!** Thanks!

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Russia pushed his scarf up over his face and exhaled, warming the fluffy fabric which in turn kept his nose from numbing. The sky was grey, a single bitter sheet of filament holding in what little warmth attempted to escape from the ground and up into the airy atmosphere. The snowfall had died down to a light flurry, each individual fleck dancing on its own in a soundless ballet through the air. Russia winced and shivered. Despite the splendor of the unscathed wonderland, the knife-like wind had leaked through the sleeves of his long coat, causing him to cross his arms and curl up to restore the heat to his frozen core. He blinked and quickly straitened up, shaking off the sensation in fear that it would convey his physical limitations to America, who trailed a few feet behind him, crunching indolently through the ice covered snow.

"Hey, Russia?" America spoke up, inadvertently breaking the silence. He ran his fingers smoothly through his hair, shaking out the loose snow. "What's your plan for this 'test your strength' thing?"

Russia stopped and sighed to himself. The peace had been refreshing while it had lasted, but it had only been a matter of time before America had to make conversation. Russia didn't think badly of him; it was expected for one to be vocal. However, the life of isolation Russia had held for so many years brought him to hate America's nasally voice. Since the Allies had dissolved, he wasn't used to hearing it every day. After a moment of looking down at his boots, he forced a soft smile on his face and looked over his shoulder, pulling his scarf down a bit from his mouth to reply.

"Don't worry, I have an idea." Russia lied. "We're just not there yet."

"Oh...Ok then." America shrugged and pushed his hands into his armpits to warm his fingers. "I was just wondering because it's kinda cold and I don't really wanna walk forever, you know."

Russia ignored him and turned, the two continuing without another word across the expansive stretch of land. In reality, he didn't have a clue what to do. He had merely hoped that by walking and taking in the crisp air, an idea would come to him. However, Russia didn't mind lying; it was the natural flaw of man and country alike. More like an instinct, actually. Everyone, no matter how pure they claimed to be, had lied more than once with a straight face, and Russia was no exception. He had perfected the art hundreds of years before for the sole purpose of hiding his true emotion. It was a distasteful fact, and one the large country hoped to keep hidden from prying eyes, but still, he had done it. Was he proud of it? He wasn't sure. It had both its advantages and disadvantages. On one end, people were exceedingly demoralized with his lack of expression, which aided in driving his enemies away and keeping them in the distance right where he wanted them. It left him to his thoughts and schemes without being troubled or prodded to speak out, and no one ever knew what was going through his mind. For this reason, he had collected a broad amount of confidential information on everyone he had known personally, giving him enough to remove them from supremacy them on a moment's notice when he saw fit. That was _always_ wonderful. On the other end, however, when he did make the attempt to show his appreciation or fondness to others, it came off as equally menacing as showing nothing at all. Most of the other countries and their political advisers saw Russia's sudden bursts of sentiment as uncharacteristic and as a forecast that something frightful was going to approach them in the future. And so, by trying to correct his mysterious ways and fulfill his need for social activity, Russia was forced to remain silent even still.

Russia frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the shivering America, who in turn smiled back at him, wiping away the fog from the clear lenses of his glasses with the back of his hand. Russia swallowed and diverted his attention back to the ground as he walked. America seemed to be one of the only countries, besides his sisters, China, and Kazakhstan*, that passed under his gaze relatively unscathed. It was admirable and showed the bravery that America possessed, but was equally loathsome. Russia could never seem to get over on him, no matter what he did. With every attempt, America's immunity to Russia's plans grew ever stronger, and the stupid capitalistic country would rebound all the faster. It was almost as if Russia was a virus to America, but since America had already caught it once, the sickness no longer affected him.

Lost in thought, Russia took a heavy step forward and nearly slipped when a piecing crack sounded beneath the steel toe of his heavy boot. He yelped and spun around, stumbling blindly into the equally confused America and knocking them both backwards into the snow.

"Dude, what the hell?!" America growled, pushing Russia off of him and into the snow. He sat up and wiped the snow from his face only to find that something was missing. "Crap, you knocked my glasses off." He mumbled.

Russia coughed from the ground, dazed. What did he step on? Russia groaned as he heaved himself up. Damn, he should have listened to China all those years ago. Jumping from such a height from a plane had really taken a toll on his back that he still felt today.

"Russia don't just sit there; help me find my glasses!" America demanded, shoveling handfuls of snow behind him in a feverish attempt to locate his only means of sight.

Russia brushed the flakes from his front and watched America fumble about blindly for his lenses.

"Can't you see?" He asked leisurely, not budging.

America squinted at the ground, perceptibly becoming annoyed. "What kind of question is that? Do I _look_ like I can see?"

Russia chuckled sympathetically and moved over to help in the search. "Well, I thought you only wore them because they represent your Texas. Or because they were cute."

"They're not cute." America frowned and pushed a large pillow of snow to the side.

"I think they're cute." Russia gave a warm smile, but it quickly faded when he noticed that America couldn't see him. He swallowed nervously. "I think _you're_ cute."

America rolled his eyes. "What's with you? Quit being weird. And you wonder why no one wants to talk to you."

Russia looked to the side, America's words stabbed him like the tip of a push knife. He didn't think he was being weird; he was being affectionate…Right? It was the same old story; he tried to say what he felt and he still wasn't taken seriously. Slowly, he scanned the scene to the side, trying to collect his thoughts and recover from the blow. The vast evergreen forest the large country had come to love stretched over the white hills from across an icy lake, dark green strokes on a blank canvas. Suddenly, Russia felt an idea float by. His gaze snapped down at the shore of the lake, frozen over by the frosty kiss of General Winter. The thin surface was cracked, leading him to the conclusion that he must have in fact hit it with the toe of his boot. Russia shook his head, panic bubbling up in his chest as a dark plot faded in and out of his mind. No, he couldn't do that! He wasn't a bad person! Russia reached up with a shaky hand and clutched at the side of his face.

_Ivan, he hates you._ Russia held his breath as the concerned wispy voice returned, echoing through the trees like a deafening bell and ringing across the countryside. _He wants to hurt you, Ivan. If you don't stop him now, he'll do it for sure._

"Stop it! America didn't mean it like that." He breathed to himself in a panicky tone as the familiar heavy feeling flooded over him. It sent shivers down his back and pushed him down, as though someone was pinning him against the soil against his will. "Please…Don't do this!"

America, oblivious of the situation behind him, grinned widely as he retrieved his glasses from the frigid ground. "Hey, Russia! I found 'em, bro." He cleaned the lenses on the fabric of his coat and slid them back onto their rightful place on the bridge of his nose, blinking a few times as his eyes re-adjusted to the light.

Russia was too preoccupied with his own fight to notice. He knew that America didn't mean to insult him like he had, but every insult fed the dark feeling deep in his ribcage. It clawed through Russia's chest like a rabid fox and reached out with controlling palms, grabbing at his limbs and taking hold of them. All he could do was pray that America got up and ran.

America yawned and stretched his arms in front of him before falling back into the pillowy snow with a huff. The sky was still the same boring shade that it had been, and the site had gone quiet. Birds no longer sang their shrill tunes and the only sound to be heard was the soft crackling of the icy lake a few feet in front of him. He sighed.

"Russia, I'm starting to think that you don't know what to do about the strength test." He voiced with a passive wave of the hand.

No reply.

America blinked and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Russia? Did you hear me?"

Still nothing.

"Ugh," America sat up and turned to face his rival. "I _said_-"

Instantaneously, America felt the air knocked out of him. He stumbled backwards onto the thin sheet of ice covering the lake, feeling it buckle dangerously beneath is weight. He coughed violently and clutched at his bruised stomach. Russia had hit him like a truck, and obviously wasn't holding back. He sat perched on the bank, neutral coat flowing around his body like the wings of a vulture. America narrowed his eyes when he noticed the deep, menacing shadow across Russia's round face. It gave him an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Shit, why was he so careless? He had utterly neglected to remember Russia's triggers, and insulting him, no matter how insignificant, always flipped his switch that activated his sadistic second personality.

America's movements were careful and stiff as he stood, wary not to break the ice beneath him. Without taking his eyes off of Russia, he gradually reached up and tugged the metal zipper of his coat down, pushing his fingers under the static ridden fabric and touching the warm grip of his dependable Beretta 92 FS Compact.

Russia gave a petite half smile and watched his opponent stand rigid on the ice. "Oh, America, you _are_ dense. Don't you think that I would remember where you keep your gun? You only have one holster, after all." He pointed to his chest, mocking America and causing him to grit his teeth in frustration.

America cursed under his breath, but refused to take his hand off of the pistol. "Listen, I didn't mean anything I said to you earlier." He treaded carefully, knowing all too well what he was getting himself into. "I just…Get all defensive when people call me cute. It makes me uncomfortable, alright?"

Russia didn't seem convinced. He gave a flippant sigh and giggled, reaching back and pulling a long metallic object from his boot. He brought the long pipe up to his face and ran his warm tongue over its smooth surface.

"But you are cute, da? You have such a handsome face." He brought the pipe down to the surface of the ice, satisfied with the shade of red that America's face had turned. "Aw, what's wrong, America?"

America felt his jaw lock and his grip tighten around the pistol. It felt like someone had smacked him across the face with a whip or slashed him with a hot poker. "Stop playing around, Russia! Snap the fuck out of it!" He yelled. Russia had to hear him, he just had to!

Russia tapped the ice with his metal staff. "Shh~," he cooed harmoniously. "You're sweating; I can see it. Wouldn't you like to cool down?" He pointed sweetly to the ice. "Here, let me help you, da? That water seems to be calling your name!"

America cried out harshly as Russia cocked back to shatter the ice with his pipe. He pulled his gun from the holster on his chest and aimed, pushing his finger over the trigger. Russia laughed loudly and brought his swing down, but abruptly stopped when a loud shout sounded from the trees across the lake, quickly snapping him out of his profound, manic trance.

"Россия!" (Russia!) The voice called.

Both countries froze, and America gave a sigh of reprieve when the alarming look shadowing Russia's face melted away, leaving behind the beautiful porcelain tone he was used to. That was too close. Swiftly, he took the opportunity and slid briskly off of the frozen surface to the safety and stability of the shore, landing himself next to Russia and knocking the pipe out of his gloved hand. Russia blinked in shock when America pinned him down and shook him heatedly, pounding him repeatedly against the earth.

"Do you have any idea how close that was?!" America scolded. "I almost _shot_ you!"

Russia gripped America's shoulders to stop the shaking and stabilize himself. For a couple of moments, he said nothing, but examined his rival's livid expression. He couldn't quite remember what had happened but, based on America's intense response, it must not have been a jolly occurrence. A searing bead of sweat dripped from America's nose and onto Russia's chest, leaving a small dark spot on the fabric of his coat. As Russia scoured his face, he noticed that a mysterious red tint had painted itself across America's face, contrasting well with the bright blue of his crystal clear eyes. Slowly, a beam peaked across Russia's face as a laugh burst from his mouth. It was outlandish seeing America this way. He seemed venerable and childish, and, much to his surprise, he found it quite charming.

America drew back and crossed his arms, mortified and all too aware that Russia was making fun of his flushed face. "S-Shut up!" He ordered, puffing out his cheeks.

Russia couldn't help himself. "But you're so cute, America!" He giggled, poking him in the cheek.

America batted his hand away and whipped around. What the hell was with him and commenting on how cute he was?! "I am no-" he stopped himself. Didn't want to flip another switch...He definitely didn't need another fiasco like that. Reluctantly, he allowed Russia to toy with his face for a few moments. "Thanks," was all he could manage to mumble.

Russia opened his mouth to reply, but the same childish voice from before sounded, closer this time.

"Россия! Россия!" (Russia! Russia!)

Russia looked up and grinned when he caught sight of what was causing the racket. Four small children, two boys and two girls, slid carefully across the ice to where the two countries argued in the snow. The blonde girl in the front waved warmly when the giggling group reached the bank, nearly dog-piling their country.

America blinked when the children crowded eagerly around Russia, who in turn gave each of them a big hug.

"Добрый день, дети!" (Good afternoon, children!) Russia greeted them in his native tongue, scooping up the two girls and holding them tightly as the laughed.

One of the two indistinguishable dark haired boys tugged at Russia's sleeve elatedly as he bounced up and down. When Russia turned, he grinned a toothy grin, and held up a miniature plastic toy, similar to a handgun.

"Россия, моя мама меня достаточно денег, чтобы купить нам новые игрушки! Вы должны приехать играть с нами!" ("Russia, my mom got enough money to buy us new toys! You should come play with us!")

Russia narrowed his eyes lightheartedly. "Я не знаю ... я должен?" (I don't know…Should I?")

America was thunderstruck at the way Russia interacted with the children. First off, he wasn't really sure where they had come from. Secondly, Russia was polite and affectionate, and it seemed that he knew exactly what to say to make the youthful Russians beam. It was sweet, father-like almost.

"I think you should, Russia." America said enthusiastically, springing back to his happy-go-lucky self and forgetting entirely about Russia's cold snap.

Russia cocked his head. "How did you understand that?" He asked in wonderment. There was no way that America could have picked out any of his words as being similar to English, and he was almost sure that he had never taught him Russian.

America puffed out his chest, pleased that he had thrown Russia off. "I used to be part of the United States Special Forces." He boasted. "Learning Russian was a requirement. But anyway! I think you should do it!"

Russia shrugged. "I'm not sure. We have to get back to figuring out a strength test."

"Well….Hey! I got it! We split up into two teams and go hide in the forest, and whoever's team captures the all of the other country's team wins. It's better than a strength test, and a lot more entertaining!"

"Ok! I love games."

"Really? I never knew that."

"Da! Pretending is fun. It's one of my favorite pastimes."

"Holy crap, mine too! I used to play with England all the time before he became a crotchety old man!" America jumped up eager to get going and started across the lake in a sprint, nearly slipping on the ice in the process. "I call being Superman! Faster than a speeding bullet, I can totally beat you to the forest!" He called over his shoulder with an overconfident snicker.

Russia motioned for the others to follow as he took off, coat fluttering stylishly behind him as he caught up to America, who continued to slip and slide about. "I want to be Ivan the Terrible, a ruthless killer, and better at crossing the ice than you!" He retorted jubilantly.

"Oh yeah? Can Ivan the Terrible fly?"

"America, you can't fly either."

"Who's America? I'm Superman and I can _to_ fly!"

"Prove it!"

"Not until we get to the forest!"

"If you ever get to the forest. You keep slipping. Ivan the Terrible never slips on the ice!"

"Slip? Ha! I'm Superman! I'm the hero and the hero can do anything!"

America laughed, fortitude flaring through his veins and compelling him forward. Never before would he have thought he would be able to have a splendid time around Russia. He had always seen him as a cold nuisance, but now, he was actually looking forward to what lay ahead. This was going to be fun.

* * *

****Kazakhstan:** #2 on Russia's recent list of allies (updated in 2010), right under Belarus. I didn't know this until I looked it up.

**Tea:** Alright…Sorry this is going a bit slow. Like I said the first part is going to be kind of boring, but I promise the next chapter will be better. At least it will get a bit more personal. You see, I'm trying to progress through Russia and America's relationship as any relationship would go naturally, rather than just jump into "holy shit lets go have sex and get married and buy a farmhouse and have like 4 million adorable babies right now even though we haven't even made up officially for the Cold War because that's how we roll! Woohoo rebels!" It wouldn't be realistic that way. Anyway, hope you at least get some enjoyment out of what I write. Please give a review if you read, I really appreciate it! Thanks you guys!

**-P.S.** I have just moved to the United States, and I guess they give the high schools a lot of snow days when it snows only about a foot (pussy United States), so I'm out of school for the next three days and will probably be writing a lot until I go back. So, yes! That's all I wanted to say. Thank you again!


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